Barking Mad

Do You Know What You Want to be When You Grow Up?

 

When I was younger, I used to sit and listen to the radio, in particular, Dr. Demento and Jim Ladd and I'd tell my mom, "Mom, that's what I want to do when I grow up!  I want to be on the radio and talk about music and talk to bands!"   I also knew, within the deepest recesses of my brain, that I wanted to write. I've been writing since before I think I was even cognizant that that's what I was doing.   I would write about anything and everything.  I used to fall asleep when I was a teenager thinking about writing about my adventures on the radio and all the bands I'd meet. 

I'm ashamed to admit that at one point, when I was maybe 13 or 14, I sent the band Styx, several letters where I may or may not have mentioned wanting to have Tommy Shaw's babies and write a book about the band.  If I close my eyes I can still see the wide-ruled paper and bright pink ink and my flowery handwriting with the curly-ques and flourishes and the "I's" dotted with hearts.   I may or may not have given each one of those letters a healthy squirt of perfume too.  

Writing, music and archery were all I thought about when I was a kid.  However, I never really paid much attention to whether I was good at any of them...well, archery I knew I was.  It took work and dedication and practice.  Hours and hours of practice, but I was damned good at it.  I wouldn't call myself a natural talent though.  As far as writing, I just knew that I loved doing it and it never occurred to me to even wonder if I had any talent.  No one could say whether I would have been any good on the radio.  All I knew when it came to being on the radio; Jim Ladd had it goin' on and I wanted what he had...a sweet gig in the studio at KMET in Los Angeles; hanging out with bands.

In between my desire to be a DJ (now we call them "Air Talent"...of course in my case, sometimes "Air Head" was more apropos!), and my goal of quite literally shooting towards a gold medal in Archery in the Olympics (it's embarrassing to admit how close I got to being able to achieve that goal, had it not been for some very poor choices on my part.), somewhere along the line I managed to derail myself.  Oh, I kept writing through it all...my journals were as much a part of my life as anything else, as well as letters to friends and long time pen-pals.

I got pregnant almost immediately out of high school, had to get married and damned if I didn't keep getting pregnant.  All those school-girl fantasies of being on the radio and being uber-cool were little more than distant memories that made me giggle, and sometimes cringe in embarrassment when I'd recall the sappy love letters written to bands.  As far as archery I never gave picking up my bow, and strapping on my quiver, another thought.  

I was raised in the Mormon church and surrounded by wonderful examples of amazing mothers.  Our Bishop's wife, Sister Neeley was "everybody's mom!"  And she was talented.  The Relief Society President was the mom of one of my close friends, Kim, and she was as gifted and wonderful as Sister Neeley.  These women were musically inclined, could sing, could out-bake anyone and held college degrees.  My own mother can pick up any musical instrument and play it with ease.  She is a gifted vocalist and I can't even tell you how many times I recall someone asking her to sing at an event they were hosting.  Pretty much anything my mom sets her mind to, she masters.  She's a brilliant attorney and decided to take up Hebrew and was able to speak fluently on a recent trip to Israel. 

All of my siblings possess at least one particular talent...some innate gift that they seemed born with and have been able to take that gift and mold their lives into something positive and rewarding using those gifts.   All three of them can play a musical instrument.  Me?  Um...I tried back when I was in the 6th grade and lets just say it ended badly.  Don't ever give your child an expensive flute without first knowing whether they can read music or not and then send them off to school to join the band and be kicked out the same day.  To this day I still can't read music and I can't carry a tune to save my life.  Imagine growing up Mormon, where singing and musical gifts are highly prized, and not being able to do either. 

When I gave birth to Joshua my world became one with a singular purpose.  Be a good mother. It seemed that was my sole purpose.  I wanted to be sure to notice and foster any inborn talents my children had but I never gave any thought to whether they would ask me, or ever wonder if I had any special talents or gifts?  Until recently, I don't think I have ever questioned whether my own children would ever think less of me if I didn't exhibit a talent of my own.  However, lately, I've been thinking about it and wondering if, when they remember me, anything will stand out in their minds, as it does mine, about my own mother, or friends' mothers...

Don't get me wrong, I think being a good mother is wonderful.  It's one of the best things you can do for your children.  However, I can't even claim to be that because for a long time I wasn't there.  Granted, the past few years I've rebuilt bridges and mended fences and have made inroads when it comes to that sort of thing, but I still feel like there's this huge gap.   I have miles of road left to travel with Gaby before I'm ready to send her off into the world and sometimes I wonder if my lack of any natural talent won't leave her feeling like her childhood was rather flat and boring? (Having a mom who can step on her own feet and trip UP the stairs doesn't count!)  Hopefully one day she'll be able to say I was a good mom and she knows she is loved and valued more than anything, but will she also be left with a hollowness because there was no special talent that I could share with her? 

I have so many memories of my mom playing the piano, or singing along with whatever was on the radio, or putting on a record (yep, an actual album, way back in the day!), of the Pirates of Penzance - the version with Rex Smith and Linda Ronstadt - and her out-singing Ronstadt.  I can also recall her ability to sew and my sisters and I all wearing handmade dresses that she had carefully sewn for us.  My own adventures with needle and thread are best left unmentioned. 

More than two decades after graduating from high school, I've sat back and looked at the lives of my friends and how they were able to mold their lives based on their God-given talents and how they've used those gifts to shape their lives, contribute to the lives and well-being of others and to give back to society.   I often wonder if it was any easier for them, being naturally gifted at something? 

Did you grow up with certain talents or gifts and were you able to build your future around those gifts?  Or did you grow up wanting to be something specific and worked towards that goal?  Do you like where you are now?

Eventually I did end up on the air.  I had a very good run for nearly a decade and worked with some amazing people.  I was mentored by the best and the brightest air and voice talents and eventually broke into the voice-over business.   Like a lot of things in life, the honeymoon ended and I grew tired of moving from radio station to radio station.  The business itself became less about the music and more about the "brand" of the corporate owners.  I spent too much time working for one of America's largest media conglomerates and I outgrew my love affair with being on the air.  When it stopped being about the music and become all about the money, I got out.

If you went after your dreams, were they everything you thought they would be?  Is the honeymoon still hot and heavy? 

I'm 41 now and I'm actually OK with that.  What I'm not OK with is that finally I know what I want to be when I grow up, but...I think it's too late.  Not only do I think it's too late, but I wonder if I'd actually be any good at it especially when so much of what I want to do revolves around being able to motivate others and speak to others when I'm in the midst of a very scary period in our lives?

How do I avoid being like that rusty tractor and bike?  How do I keep my kids from looking back and saying, "Yeah, she could have been useful, had she only done something with her life! But instead, she sat around and rusted!"

Bottom line...I want to write and I want to motivate others who have been where I am, and show them it's possible to get through it.  But how do I do that when so much in my own life is so uncertain now and my own deepest darkest fears of having to live out of our car, may become a reality because I'm not doing anything useful to contribute to my family to help get us out of this dark scary place? 

I can scarcely believe I just gave voice to all of this.  It's out there now and while I suppose I don't have to hit the publish button, I will.

I know what I want to be when I grow up...I just wonder if I'm too grown up already to actually be that person?

 

Sunday Snapshots...Shadow Play

What's that you say?  Today is Thursday?  Yeah yeah, I know.  Cut me some slack...I've been trying to figure out what I really want to be when I grow up as well as suffering from "there are a million things to write about but I'm just feeling kinda blase' so I'm gonna curl up and read a few books for a few days and ignore everyone and everything and then maybe I'll feel like writing..."  Oh and I've also been working on how to break the Guinness Book of World records for longest run-on sentence, ever.  How am I doing?

The "Pink-Slip" party we started last Friday afternoon lasted well through late Saturday night, so Sunday morning I got up, not wanting to do much of anything strenuous (which included the act of hauling my big ass out of bed), and tossed dinner into the crock pot and by mid-day we were all suffering from a case of cabin fever.  So whilst the slow-cooker simmered away at supper, we packed up the camera and headed out to Ft. Popham for a mini-sunset-trek.

The light was generally pretty craptastic and I didn't get many shots I thought worthwhile, but I did get some shots of Gaby playing with her shadows along the walls of the old fort and some of them turned out pretty cute...

 

  

I had the best time continuing to sit there and watch her play with her shadow whilst I popped off the occasional photo!

 

  

 

  

After looking at these photos for a couple of days now, I have to admit that they are finally starting to grow on me.  I'm pretty fond of the color the setting sun cast on the granite walls of the fort.  I love the shadow-play element of them but at first I wasn't too thrilled with the overall quality of the photos and now that I've had a chance to sit and look at them for a while, I am actually pretty taken with them.

I did manage to get a couple of non-shadow pictures of Gaby as well...

 

 

I think the fact that she was really beginning to become irritated with me and my camera is becoming obvious in the next two shots.  I love this one because it's sort of "glowy" with the setting sun reflecting off of Gaby...

 

Gaby literally told me, right before I took this next one, "NO more picture mumma!"

 

Of course, when the chance arose to capture a near-silhouette of Gaby and her daddy, I took it!

 

When she finally made an escape from my invasive lens, I got a couple of other shots of the Ft. and the surrounding area at sunset...

 

Sunset at the bay surrounding Ft. Popham, framed by lobster pots on the shore...

 

One of the side walls of the Ft. with a lighthouse atop an island in the distance...

 

I love my Maine coastline.  I'm hanging onto it right now with everything I have.  I have a feeling we won't be here much longer, so I'm going to capture every moment that I can while we are still here, calling this place home.  I hope you guys will bear with me if I become maudlin and post an obscene amount of photos from my beloved shore.  

Indeed, we may have to move to go where the work is, but this will always be home.  A part of my soul will always remain here and one day  I hope I'll come back here to rest my bones along these waters once more. 

 

Of This One Thing I am Sure...

...Gaby loves Autumn and the bounty it brings almost as much as her mommy does!

 

 

  

I have discovered that there is NO END to the number of times a 3 year old will jump into a pile of leaves!  The joy that is derived from this simple act is seemingly endless, and so are the giggles as she lands into a pile of red, brown, orange and gold leaves.  Gaby turns the dried leaves over in her hands and then with glee, scrunches them between her fingertips and watches as the pieces of the broken leaf drift back down onto the pile from whence it came. 

Here we go again! It's important to get a running start...

 

 

 

All of this running and jumping and cavorting with leaves is enough to make one think she might be part woodland elf!

 

Of course, all this leaf-pile jumping comes with a few drawbacks...

 

 

Pine needles and leaves in the hair can be a mighty annoying thing when you're 3!

 

Alas, a leaf or two intertwined with her curls doesn't deter her for long.  Before you know it, she's back at it again!

  

 

Even her big brother Matt can't resist her pleas to, "Come jump wiff me Matty, come on, it's FUN!"

  

No matter how dirty she gets and how many pine needles I end up pulling out of her hair at bath time, the sheer joy she gets from this beloved New England pastime is worth it! 

How much does this child love Autumn?  I think her smile says it all!

 

  If things are quieter than normal around the asylum it's because we are out enjoying the beautiful colors of this time of year and for that enjoyment, Autumn exacts a price...raking all those leaves! Not only is that a huge chore this time of year but while some people have massive spring cleaning sprees, we are having a massive Autumn overhaul!  

Amidst all the raking and cleaning, we're also dealing with Meaghan's departure for boot camp looming near by.   In the next 25 days we're going to be celebrating Thanksgiving, Christmas and Halloween with our girl!  To say it's going to be busy is an understatement of epic proportions.

25 days...

 

Catching the Blush

I took this photo of one of the hydrangeas on the lone hydrangea bush that survived my prune-a-thon when we first bought our home back in July of '07.  I had no idea that I was whacking away at one of my favorite flowering plants.  I think I might adore hydrangeas even more than my oft beloved tulips. 

As we were walking back into the house from collecting Geronimo after our first [failed] attempt at walking him, I happened to notice that the plump hydrangea blooms were blushing.  Yes, they really were beginning to blush. The most amazing pale and hot pinks were just beginning to spread over the hundreds of tiny petals.

We had two tiny blooms in September of '07 and they were both solid white.  There were only scarcely more blooms last year and not nearly as healthy as this year's.  Like the blooms from the late summer of '07, all of them were white. 

This year, my hydrangea plant, despite being hacked to death by a mad woman with a black thumb, has a few more blooms yet, and they are beautiful.  Lush, heavy with petals and starting to blush and turn into something so beautiful I can not find the words to give weight to the heaviness of how truly gorgeous they are.  The above and below pictures barely do them justice.

In many ways, these flowers are symbolic of so many things in my life right now.

It's hard to believe that they survived very nearly being pruned to death by someone who didn't have a clue in hell as to what the plant was, or what she was doing to it.  I've no doubt that it was healthy and thick with a bounty of blossoms to offer in the years before I discovered it.  Now, here it is, on the rebound, healthy and lovely.  I look at it and see the same things I want to see in myself.

The hydrangea has survived a lot.  It survives a lot.  It goes through winters when it's buried under mounds of frozen white snow and crystal clear ice.  It's pounded by the angry winds of winter Nor'easters and then pelted by the relentless rain of early spring storms only to have to suffer through the heat and humidity of New England summers.  Most importantly, it survived my abuse.  OK, so it wasn't intentional, but I almost killed it.  Yet here it stands, in all it's amazing glory, blessing me with it's most exquisite presence, like some sort of beacon in having faith that what once was, can be again.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and am instantly repulsed by what I see...by what I've become, what I've let myself become.  If I don't cover the mirror, I end up sticking my finger down my throat and trying to bring up some of the ugliness from inside. 

In the end, it doesn't work.  It just makes the ugliness even worse.  In the end I should look back at my hydrangeas and realize it takes time, but eventually the beauty that's always there resurfaces.  It isn't forced or hastened.  With time it comes.

When I noticed the blush I thought to myself how nice it would be to walk by a mirror one day and catch the same sort of beautiful blush...something I wasn't expecting but was amazed and happy to see.

I really hope it's still in there and that I haven't damaged myself so badly that it's impossible to resurrect myself and catch my own beautiful blush. 

A Whale of a Tale

Just sit right back and you'll hear a tale,
A tale of a fateful trip
That started from this tropic port
Aboard this tiny ship.

The mate was a mighty sailing man,
The skipper brave and sure.
Five passengers set sail that day
For a three hour tour, a three hour tour...

OK so the port wasn't exactly "tropic"...it was more like Boothbay Harbor here in Maine. And there were six passengers from our party, not five.  But hey, those are just minor details.  Oh well that and the fact that we didn't become shipwrecked on a desert isle nor were Meg or I forced to walk around fashioning bras out of coconuts and Gareth, Matt and Chris didn't smack one another on the back or call each other "Little Buddy."  That's probably a good thing. 

Despite the obvious differences between our little gaggle of inmates that decided to escape the asylum for the day, and those of the ill-fated five Minnow passengers on that fateful trip, we had a wonderful time.  Oh alright...there was a bit of seasickness and a certain female member Meg who shall remain nameless of our party lost her sealegs and her lunch and another one almost did - despite all of that, the weather was perfect, the sky the most breathtaking blue, and the indigo depths of the Atlantic ocean were relatively calm as it carried our large boat out on a trek to watch some whales dance about in the sea. Poseidon gifted us with one of those rare, glorious New England days on the ocean where every single care and worry is gently carried away on a sea breeze.

As the Pink Lady carried us out to sea we passed by Bird's Nest Light...

...as well as other people enjoying the marvelous afternoon...







The boat ride was fantastic even if it was a bit windy!





When the wind got to be a bit much for those not perched on the side of the boat, hanging on for dear life, yet bound and determined to get a shot of a whale, they went below deck and goofed off for a bit.











And then back outside when the excitement about a whale, spotted off the bow, became audible below deck...







The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.  We both love to ham it up from time to time!



You'd never guess they were twins, would you?  Alas, they are.  Matt is a minute older than Meg.

I know you're probably sitting there asking yourselves, "Well um, Audrey, where are the whales?" 

Two hours into our cruise I was asking the very same thing.  We were about 10 miles from shore and spotted a water spout and that was it.  We saw several porpoises and a vast array of sea birds, but not so many whales out there.  Not until we started to head back in towards the harbor and got closer to shore. 

We saw several Finback whales very close to shore which really surprised me, especially with as many people on boats and surfboards as there were.  Let me tell you something though.  Had I been on a small watercraft or a boat and saw one of the Finbacks, I can guarantee you that I would have thought "SHARK!!!" rather than 80', docile whale. 

Unfortunately, I didn't get any "great" shots.  It was a tad windy on the bow of the Pink Lady and there were a couple of really obnoxious photographers who were pretty careless with their lenses and elbows and I got smacked in the head by both on more than one occasion.   The water was pretty choppy closer to shore and the boat rolled pretty severely.  So between getting whacked in the head by elbows and expensive camera lenses (I'll have you know, this is one of those occasions in life it pays to be short!  My expensive telephoto lens was not used as a battering ram at all.  Although next time I do something like this, I may think twice about popping the next cheeky git who decides to get in my face with his obnoxious lens!), and hanging on for dear life, and trying not to throw up, I only got a few shots. 

Having said all that, the experience was something I'll cherish forever.  Getting me out on this little adventure was a group effort between Gareth, Matt, Meg and Gaby with Meg's friend Chris coming along for the heck of it.  Gareth knows how much I love the ocean and feel at peace the closer I am to the water.  He never fails to notice how much it calms me and how I let the sights, sounds and smells wash over me and absorb into my soul.  All of my kids know how much I love sea mammals and have always wanted to go on a whale watching cruise.

It's one thing to see such magnificent ocean-going mammals in enclosures such as those you'll find at Sea World and other marine wildlife parks.   It's entirely another to see them in all their glory in their natural habitat.  It literally took my breath away.   A couple of the whales got very near our boat and I could literally feel their immense presence.  It's almost indescribable - knowing that something so massive yet utterly graceful and intelligent is so close; something very few ever take the time to observe in nature and often take for granted.

I almost felt as if I was a visitor to their sacred tabernacle, taking a brief moment to stand in awe and pay homage to such a wondrous creature.

I Wonder What Goes Through a Three Year Old's Mind?

I have no clue what goes through a three year old's mind, especially my particular three year old, but if these pictures are any indication, then it must be pretty fascinating.

Did a wee small faerie whisper in her ear?

Perhaps she saw one of Santa's elves spending a relaxing holiday on the beach?



Did someone tell her that all (and not just the smokin' hot yellow one, Greg) of The Wiggles are going into retirement and that Yo Gabba Gabba is being replaced by This Very Very Very Friggin Old House ?



Or maybe someone told her that Tyra Banks called and they're looking for America's Next Top Toddler Model?

Clouds, Coughs, and Cobwebs Be Damned!

Mother Nature, while the folks of New England and in specific, Maine, obviously did something to get your knickers in a knot, I decided to ignore you (yeah, that was me, staring into the smudgy gray skies overhead, yesterday, and giving you the finger!) and haul the Little Imp to an ocean-side playground and let her have at it.  She was feeling considerably better when she woke up yesterday and upon jumping out of bed told me; "Mumma, I feel like an adventure!"  To be honest, so did I.  I knew that Thursday was going to be our one decent day out of the week and by "decent" I mean an only 30% chance of showers vs. an all out deluge.   I was right.  It merely splattered on us here and there yesterday.  Today...?  It's totally chucking it out down and we're under yet another flood watch.  Lovely.

Imp asked me if I was going to take "some pitchers" of her and I cocked my head to the side and she said, "a'course you are mumma!"  I threw a few flash cards in my camera bag, swapped one lens for another, said goodbye to Megawatt who was in the kitchen making a breakfast pizza with Paul, who had stopped by, ushered the Imp out the door and was immediately stopped dead in my tracks by the mother of all cobwebs that stretched from the door of my Jeep to the garage door.  It was huge. My ear was touching the side of it and I was absolutely terrified that the vibration of the movement on the web would send whatever the hell kind of ginormous spider that had made a web that enormous, out to investigate whether brunch was being served. 

I think perhaps I've mentioned in passing, out here, that I absolutely hate spiders?  Actually, sans the hubby (who sets the damned things free when he finds them!), we are an entire family of arachnophobics!  

It dawned on me that maybe the spider wasn't the size of a VW afterall and that she'd had a bit of time to work on her masterpiece, connecting my Jeep with the garage (Yes, I know, typically one parks their car in the garage.  However, since purchasing the asylum two years ago, most of the boxes went straight from the moving truck, into the garage where they remain to this day, untouched, like some ancient museum pieces.), as I hadn't left the house except to take Imp to the dr., since returning from BlogFest down in Mathews, VA.

I made short work of the web (PETA members can save their keystrokes for someone who cares. Homeless spiders don't tend to garner any sympathy from me.), and soon enough we were on our way south to one of our favorite little seaside playgrounds.  I was hoping the park would be relatively empty, with the craptastic weather we've been having, and I wasn't disapointed.

The Little Imp ran herself ragged; climbing on everything, swinging on swings and sliding down slides while I stood nearby and tried to capture some of the expressions of utter joy and that would float across her face, or maybe I would be lucky enough to catch a glimpse of the carefree spirit that possess the young; to forever have it saved on film.

Upon uploading this image, I was once again reminded that the Little Imp has legs that go on forever.  She sure as heck didn't get them from her daddy or I!





This is probably going to be my "photo-crush" for a while.  Something about the tilt of her head, or perhaps it's those wonderful eyelashes of hers, makes me smile.



Sometimes she really has no expression, but yet there's still something...

Other times it seems as if she's almost pensive, or lost deep in the thoughts of a three year old...



It's only after she announces that she just tooted, that I realize she was neither lost in thought or pensive.



The Little Imp was quite taken with the statues at the playground, in particular, this one...



"Mumma, you think anyone is in there?"



"Well, even if you 'nore me, I'm still gonna give you some loves."

She's just that kind of little girl. 

So, Mother Nature, in the end, you might have had quite the wet tantrum today, but yesterday, despite your grouchy countenance and threatening clouds, we enjoyed ourselves quite nicely.  Although, it would have been nice if you could have managed the slightest of breezes after the Little Imp tooted.

I Came Home from BlogFest with Far More Than I Took Down with Me

Images from four days spent with women from the blogosphere that I didn't know, are now co-mingled with memories of four days spent with some of the most amazing women I have ever been fortunate enough to meet and now call friends.

People who know me and in particular,  know my own personal situation, were hesitant to believe that something good could come from something so foreign...to them.  While blogs and blogging aren't unknowns to these people, the fact that someone would drive 800 miles one way to spend almost four days with people she'd gotten to know via the cyber-world, seemed, I dare say, a little unusual to them.  To those individuals, the wonderful people I have spent the last several days with, are little more than "the people who live in the computer."  

However, my husband, daughter and therapist;  my own personal cheer leading squad, knew better.  Granted, I wasn't sure I had enough Xanax to get through the initial face-to-face meeting (although on the drive down, and especially once we crossed the VA state line, I was so anxious and filled with nerves that I had to pull over three times so I could throw up...), with the women who turned out to be amongst some of the most beautiful people I've ever had the privilege of meeting; it didn't end up being an issue at all.

Here I sit, six days after my journey began, with my fur babies curled around my feet (well except for Griffy, who decided he was either so pissed off that I'd left in the first place, or overjoyed that I had finally returned - that he brought me a squirrel.  Um, a metabolically challenged squirrel if you get my drift!), the Little Imp sacked out on the sofa with what we hope is only a nasty summer cold (fever of 102F, cough and general yuckiness has enveloped my little curly haired angel.), and the whir of a fan gently blowing behind me; trying to absorb everything and put into words how much this experience meant to me and how much it moved me.

How does one begin to convey images, faces, laughter, experiences, new friendships and the excitement and lingering sense of bliss from those things that are swirling around in her head in a hazy mixture of happiness and exhaustion?

In the next couple of days I hope to do that...to try and share with you some of what made this past weekend so memorable and given me a glimps into a life that I didn't think ever had a chance in hell of existing for me again.  A life filled with smiles, laughter, silliness; a life filled with new friends and new experiences and most of all, a life lived outside of the confines of my own home and the shackles that have kept me chained inside myself for far too long.

I can also tell you that we will be returning to Mathews, VA in the very near future.  Why is that you ask?  I think this photograph answers that question pretty succinctly.

Any young man that offers to move a little closer to you in order to be the first to be stung by the jellyfish in order to keep you from being stung, well, he's worth visiting again, especially since the beautiful young lady (Megawatt) had already been stung pretty severely, earlier in the afternoon.  More about that over the next few days.

BlogFest and the memories it gifted me with are an indelible reminder of life and how very worth living it is! Thank you Chesapeake Bay Woman, Big Hair Envy, and everyone else who attended and made this experience so memorable and such an extraordinary reminder that there are still beautiful people left in the world.

Flashbacks from the 4th

That's me, always after-the-fact.  I'm probably going to end up being late for my own funeral.  Funny that; being late for anything is one of my biggest pet peeves.

I actually have a good excuse for my latent 4th of July post.  I have recently started shooting in RAW (for those of you who don't give a rat's ass about photography, I don't mind that your eyes have already started to glaze over, vs. later on in my posts.) and not only are the image files ginormous, they take me forever to post-process.

To be blunt, the 4th of July 'round these parts of New England was pretty much a wash.  We were inundated with thunderstorms and downpours and it was wet and dreary; identical to much of the last six weeks.  So why should Independence Day be any different?  We certainly didn't gain our independence from the weather system stuck above us.

Earlier in the day, I had the hubby take the Little Imp on an adventure to go to the beach and get me some sand.  Notwithstanding the torrential downpours and the lightening slashing across the sky, they did!  He brought me back close to 30lbs of beach sand. Yeah, 30lbs.  Anyone out there in AZ want a little genuine Maine beach sand?

Why did I need some sand?  Because my luvlies, I wanted to make a centerpiece for my table. 

Voila!

Whilst I couldn't get outside to grill, I pinched a recipe from Noble Pig for sliders and despite my lack of culinary prowess, they turned out pretty damn good.  Actually, they tasted a lot like I remember the sliders from White Castle tasted.  If you haven't already checked out Noble Pig...go! Oh and don't forget to tell her I sent you!   I hate to admit that if it wasn't for her site, I'd have not gotten several last minute recipes and thus the inhabitants of the asylum would have been fending for themselves on several occasions - which equates having pizza delivered or someone getting takeout.

Sliders and fries...

Dessert was about the only thing that remotely resembled something patriotic.  Oh, and I came up with this by my very own self!  Yes, I'm proud...even more so that I didn't burn the asylum down when I lit it!

Add a sparkler and then light that baby up!



Crappy photography at it's best, but there you have it. An original Barking Mad Asylum 4th of July dessert.  You too can make this, all you need are these simple items!

I know that eventually my mom, whenever she gets back from Israel, is going to read this and say a couple of things;  "Audrey, where the hell did you get blue cake?"  and "Oiy vey! You are lazy, you could have made whipped cream rather than resorting to that crap in a can!" 

Thanks in advance mom for the helping of guilt!  Yes, I know I could have made homemade whipped cream.  However, I put this bad boy together at the last minute and I used what I had on hand.  As for the blue cake?  Easy peasy lemon squeezy!   My girl, Betty Crocker, hit me up with a white cake mix and some blue food colouring.  A little simple addition and you've got yourself a blue cake.  Smurfs everywhere will be proud.  Oh and your granddaughter was totally down with her patriotic dessert! 

Seeing as how it was pouring outside, we couldn't light any of the 50 packages of sparklers I have accumulated over the last 6 months.  Don't ask me why I have so damned many packages of sparklers.  Probably because anything more explosive than a sparkler is illegal in Maine.  I also managed to get my hands on a huge package of what I thought were "legal" fireworks here in Maine.  It also contained about another 30 packages of sparklers and tons and tons of other things I assumed were fireworks...like the kind that don't ever leave the ground, but alas, still legal in Maine.

The hubby took one look at them once I'd opened the package and knew what they were.  I was still completely in the dark (gee, big shock there!).  He started to open one and I went through the roof, yelling at him to "Don't you dare light that Goddamned thing in my house! Are you on crack? Have you lost your ever-lovin' mind?!?!"

He smacked one of the long golden tubes across his hand and as I dived under the table in anticipation of the explosion, bazillions of tiny little pieces of  multi- coloured paper started to rain down all over the kitchen.

Those "fireworks" I bought?  Yeah, they weren't so much fireworks as they were tubes of confetti. 

I can't even begin to describe the mess that ensued, show I'll show you instead.

That crap got everywhere!

Once I'd gotten the mess swept up in the kitchen (that doesn't even begin to cover the couters, the windowsill, the stove.), and into a nice little pile, the unthinkable happened.  Geronimo and Godiva decied to pounce on the pile!

I am still finding pieces of confetti all over the house and in the most unusual places. 

I was hopping into the shower the evening of the 4th and took my bra off and lo and behold, resting there between the girls were about 25 pieces of confetti.  

I took a book off the shelves on the fireplace and opened it up and out came flying several pieces of confetti.  

I was watching Griffy saunter past me yesterday and there, stuck to his ass?  Yeah, confetti.  

Being that there were no local fireworks displays on the 4th due to the rain, the local display that is put on in conjunction with Bath Heritage Days was held on the 5th. 

Megawatt, the hubby and the Little Imp all begged me to go.  The hubby told me it would be good chance to practice my night shooting and have my first go at shooting fireworks with the new camera and lenses.  Then he plied me with enough Xanax to put down an elephant and I went along.   Although, I forgot my tripod and trying to shoot fireworks without a tripod always ends badly...my shots from the fireworks display are no exception to that rule.

I think I was using the wrong lens too.

My one surprising success of the night, as far as taking pictures was concerned, was getting a half-way decent shot of La Luna...the moon.  I'm doubly tickled about this shot because I did it without a tripod, or knowing what the hell I was doing with the new camera.

Framed, in part,  by the Bath Bridge...

I have never ever been able to get a shot of the moon that resembles anything more than a speck of light against pitch black, so this little gem is near and dear to me.  See, it really is the simple things in life like this that manage to make me smile.  Well that and the fact that upon seeing this on the computer, the Little Imp looked up at me and beamed and then said, "Mumma, you are the bestest pichure taker in the world. You rock!" 

No, Little Imp...you, my dear, are the one who rocks!

I Discovered Ebay and Fell off the Face of the Earth

I'm here...only sort of.  And I'm going to ramble endlessly about photo related nonsense for a little bit.  Oh and Ebay.  Oh yeah, and Joe.  Who is Joe you ask?  Joe is pretty much one of the most awesome people I know right now.  Oh and there's a "Buyer Beware" moral somewhere amidst my mindless mutterings.

Amidst this great back and forth inner battle between choosing to go the way of popular opinion and get a Canon prosumer camera, or stay with Sony's (Sony bought the Minolta/Konika line of DSLR's so it's not like they are just creating these camera's for the first time and asking professionals to trust the build quaility.) line of prosumer DSLR's;  I not only had a "come to Jesus moment" regarding my photography, but I had an "assisted epiphany" in regards to buying camera equipment.  I say "assisted" because one of my favourite local pros, Joe, helped steer me in the direction of Ebay.

Part of this huge inner battle was the fact that last year I nearly spent $8K on a top of the line Canon and deep inside I knew 1.) I had no business spending that much on a camera, and 2.) I was really only getting it because 'everyone else had one' and 3.) I was secretly aprehensive about having to learn an entire brand new system, when I was already comfortable with Sony.  So, I backed off buying the camera and invested in another new lens for the Sony and played with it and decided to deal with all the other crap that was going on at the time (the litigation surrounding the "Very Bad Thing") and worry about the camera later.

Well along comes a big bad depression, a PTSD diagnosis, a crisis with my youngest son, an eating disorder and real doubt in my talent as a photographer, or hell, doubting just about any and all aspects of my life.  Buying a new camera, especially one that cost the price of a decent used car, should not have been looming on my horizon.

Fast forward several months and now that I'm no longer dealing with a looming nasty trial, and the kitchen remodel is over for the most part, I was able to spend more time obsessing about whether or not my talent was worthy of a new camera.   I've written about my "shit or get off the pot" philosophy when it comes to my photography and I also knew that if I was indeed going to do something, then I needed to expand and upgrade my equipment.  Do I stay with Sony or go with Canon or consider Nikon? 

I'm still not sure I have any genuine talent but I know I want to work on it and see where it takes me. 

Having finally decided that I wasn't going to "stay on the pot", I gave into peer pressure and started looking into Canon cameras again and found what I thought was a deal that was too good to be true.  All the time, in the back of my mind I kept hearing that annoying voice telling me dial it down a notch and keep looking at the other Sony's and to talk to people I trust.  But did I listen?  No.  Was that "deal" indeed too good to be true?  You bet your ass it was.   I found a brand new Canon EOS 50D with 3 lenses and a whole boat load of other stuff for a price that was more than $1000 below retail.  I even called to make sure it was all brand new and legitimate and checked to see if there had been any BBB complaints against the company.  Didn't find anything.

I bought the package online and a couple of hours later a rep for the company phoned to confirm my order and then he told me that for only $1200 more I could upgrade to the Canon USA titanium camera body and glass lenses vs. the Indonesian polycarbonate body with plastic lenses. 

What the hell?

He told me that I was already getting a great deal on the polycarb body and then casually mentioned that the camera language was in Indonesian as well.  Not only that, my FPS (frames per second) were going to be halved due to the body difference.  So I wouldn't be getting anywhere close to the 6fps that are standard with that model.  I'd be lucky, with the polycarb body, if I saw 3fps!

What the hell?

Once more he asked me if I'd be "interested in upgrading my package for a convenient $1200".

What the hell?

I told him that I thought he was full of crap and that I wanted to cancel my entire order.  No where on the website or when I phoned the company was I told that what I was getting was basically a cheap plastic overpriced TOY, to which the customer service rep replied, "Mrs. Barking Mad, I assure you, the package you've ordered is still a very good package at a sensational price!  Further to that, this exact package, with a super-zoom telephoto lens is what all the Japanese paparazzi are using."   At that point I'd lost all patience with the nob and shouted,

"Do I sound like a fucking Japanese paparazzi to you?  And I sure as hell must sound dumb, but rest assured I'm not.  This is a bait and switch deal and I'm not buying.  Refund my money right now and end this transaction and then remove me from any and all of your data bases. NOW!" 

End of conversation, start of many tears, much kicking myself and questioning whether this was some sort of sign that I had no business being anywhere near professional cameras, let alone trying to call myself a "professional" or even a "semi-professional" photographer.

Once I made sure my money had in fact been returned to my account, and I'd dried my tears, that's when I phoned Joe and blurted everything out and told him I was about to throw my camera and all my equipment into the Atlantic.  Thankfully he talked me down off the ledge and assured me that this sort of thing happens a lot more often than you'd think and even to professionals who shoot for glossy publications.   Then he mentioned a couple of Sony's I might be interested in says that the model I would do best with is as good as, if not better than, the Canon EOS 50D I was trying to buy - and this is coming from a man who ONLY shoots with Canon!   He also knew I was at a real cross-roads with my lens collection and needed something that made my close ups and portrait work POP.  That's when he suggested Ebay and said that a lot of professional photographers who are just starting to get comfortable with new lenses, get their gear on Ebay.  He himself has bought over 17 lenses on Ebay and even 3 DSLR's.

I went ahead joined Ebay with a fair amount of trepidation. The whole aura of buying someone else's cast-offs or unwanted items and not knowing what I'd actually be getting made me slightly uneasy.   That unease didn't last long though.  Joe gave me the names of some reputable camera dealers on Ebay and sure enough, I found them in no time flat and from the time I clicked the "place bid" button for the first time, I was hooked.  I am now the proud winner of 4 auctions on Ebay, have a nice collections of lenses and amidst all the bidding and nail biting and rebidding because I'd been outbid and then shouting at the faceless person who outbid me, I managed to also find a new Sony DSLR that is exactly what I was looking for and fits my needs perfectly. So now I sit here and wait for the UPS man, who will also be one of my new favourite buddies, to bring me all  my goodies! 

And ya know what?  Whilst it cost me a little more than I'd budgeted, I feel absolutely at peace with this decision and that was something I didn't feel after I'd initially bought that Canon EOS 50D.  I looked into serious professionals who use Sony DSLR's and emailed a few of them and absolutely know I made the right decision...especially after one of them told me that it was hard to listen to the still small voice inside when all the bigger louder voices were shouting "Canon" and "Nikon."  I also got some very sage advice that I hope to be confident enough to use in the near future.

It's funny how something as seemingly inconsequential as a camera has caused me to have one of those "come to Jesus" moments I referenced earlier.  But this little thing...this inconsequential camera decision has been the first damned decision I've felt confident about in almost 18 months.

Now that my introduction and initial excitement with Ebay has cooled off, I might actually have a little more time for writing out here.  Oh and I can't forget the Keurig giveaway that I have coming up.  Camera or no camera, The Keurig needs a home! 

Will it be yours?